Dear You,

Goodbye. I think it's important to start from the end.

Goodbye properly.

Even though I don't see how we can ever be part of each other's lives again, I don't regret any part of you being there. It's almost impossible for me to write honestly to you/about you because you've put my guard back up. Or maybe I've just run out of feelings.

I love you. At least I think I do. In the simplest way that you love someone. You see them as a whole person. Good and bad and just love them anyway.

I miss you. Not enough to try. Not enough for closure. Not enough to fix what's already broken.

I'm surprised I don't have more to say. I thought when I eventually wrote, it would be soul-filled and pain would be stretched across every line. But maybe that's just my romanticised ideal. It shouldn't be able to end so easily. Love. Relationships.

But it's easy. Too easy. And as much as I loved you being in my life, I like you not being in it more. It took being out of it to realise you weren't really adding anything to it. But do people really do? Maybe you were teaching me to how to give. Give and give and give and never get anything. Because is the point of giving not giving?

But I wish Utopia existed. I wish I could expect nothing. I wish I just wanted to keep giving. But I wanted something in return. I wanted acknowledgement. I wanted you to give too.

I wanted you to give too.

That's what happens when you expect

But no matter how low my expectations went, you always manage to disappoint them. You always managed to make me lower them until they were lowered to nothing. And you still couldn't give me nothing. You still couldn't give me nothing.

Sometimes I'm angry. Not that angry. Angry enough. Sometimes I hate you. But then I hate that I hate you because what I want is to feel nothing towards you.

What I want is for you to tell me all the ways I was wrong. I want to know all the ways I disappointed you. I want my memories of me in me and you to be as flawed as my memories of you are. But more than that, I want to not care. Indifference.

I love you. Now. I miss you. Now. I hate you. A little bit. But eventually, I won't care about you. At all. Not our memories. Not my memories. Not at all.

And you're a rapist

Sometimes you have to walk away. Staying, staying is like being a rapist. You keep insisting that you know that if they gave you a chance, it a chance, it would work. So you stay and you try and you're like a rapist. Because every human being has a right to decide. Their decision doesn't have to match your desire. Two people can see the same situation opposite.

So you stay and you're a rapist.

Everything is a sign. You don't enjoy the moments you have because you're too busy translating it into what you think, romanticizing every hug and laugh, revelling in how right your instincts are. Those are't your instincts, those are your fantasies. So you stay, waiting, hoping, trying.

And you're a rapist.

You think, 'oh if only I tried the right way at the right moment' and a montage of romance plays in your head. Oh, it hasn't happened, because timing is everything and you've missed it. So you stay, and you're a rapist.

Sometimes, you need to walk away.
And you stay, and you're a rapist.

The thing is, I miss him. They don't tell you about the layers of emotion. It's either everything is on or everything is off. But for one feeling, there are a thousand layers. The passage of time strips many of them away, but time also shows you what all the layers are. How do you know that when you strip off lust and obsession, you realise that there was understanding and laughter. When you strip off the hurt and the pain and the drama, you realise that there was a real friendship.

Emotions operate on an all or nothing basis.

I can't give all, but I don't want nothing.

Happy New Year

Happy new year!

I spent most of last year not writing, because I spent most of last year not being honest with myself. It wasn't that I was lying to myself, although I did some of that, I just wasn't willing to open myself up to any truth that involved any deep reflection. I was tired of deep and I needed time to just wallow in shallow (no pun intended).

But not being honest affects me in many ways, mostly in my writing, which I've realised is really important to me.

Good things came out of the year regardless. I've learnt to listen more. Really listen. I'm more patient and as a result, I have better relationships with people. For me, this is huge. I've always been socially awkward and being able to relate to people easier has really helped my life.

In my personal experience, open and honest just doesn't work. Life is not a romcom where everyone ends up at the airport. Sometimes the truth is just too much. It is with this new expectation that I'm going forward. Having no expectations of the truth and just telling it anyway.

Happy new year.

Is there such a thing as too nice? Yes, there is. How do I know this? I. Am. Too. Fucking. Nice. Too nice. It hasn't gotten me anywhere in life. I don't know if it's a romcom thing that says that nice will get you anywhere in life (or at least get you the hottest girl), in real life nice just doesn't work.

I have to admit that I've changed and gradually become a little more selfish and it's paid off. A balance has to be struck and i'm still learning how to strike that balance.

Soon!

I haven't been posting lately because there was something wrong with my post settings and my writing wasn't breaking into paragraphs and it irritated the hell out of me.

Have you noticed how similar creative people are so similar? So dysfunctional? How deeply they feel everything? the neurosis? How much I can understand why Woody Allen could do something like marry his daughter?

I long to be shallow sometimes. I long to not read deep into anything, to be 'normal'. That's not to say the way I am is abnormal, it's just harder to find people like me on average, but then maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places.

Why, I endlessly wonder does everyone try to be different? What's the value?

At the end of the day, what's wrong with being the same? Part of a group?

And just like that, I've lost track of what I'm on about.

They lied. Everyone that said time heals. It heals nothing. I swear, me and you was yesterday and I miss you. I can live with it, I'm not saying I can't, but since when was living with anything a sign of anything? I. Cannot. Move. On. I keep waiting for time to wash indifference over me, argh, I can make this long and still come to the same end. I'm fucked. I miss you.

I wanted you to tell me who you wanted me to be, so I could become that person for you. Was I not pretty enough maybe? I wanted to look exactly how you pictured attractive to look. More make-up? less? Natural hair? Braids up to there? Bigger? Smaller? Thinner? Fatter? How much shorter did you need me to be? I love flats Much taller? I really like heels too. What did you need me to listen to? Watch? read? did you want me to even read at all? I wanted to put my interests aside and fall in love with yours. I wanted to laugh exactly when you laughed in the movie. I wanted all the things you found funny to be funny to me. Everything you were interested in, I wanted to know first. So I could tell you, show you. So you could love me. I needed you to tell me who you needed me to be. So you could love me.

I Had a Girlfriend Once...

I had a girlfriend once. Everytime I spent the weekend at her place, she had the exact same routine. She'd wake up sometime after six and before seven. She'd read till about seven thirty. She read everything; news, blogs, magazines...but sometimes she'd be in the middle of an excellent book and she'd wake up and read that. I often woke up to find her reading, tears silently streaming down her face as she got involved in a fictional tragedy. She would get up at about seven thirty, pee, then brush her teeth. She would put on her running gear and go for a run. sometimes she was back after 10 minutes and sometimes after an hour, but she always went for a run. She'd was her face, bring me a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and go and make breakfast. I'd brush my teeth and go and see what she was making. That was usually the first time we spoke. She had speakers everywhere. She'd put on her present favorite album and it would play on repeat all day. really loudly. Then after breakfast, she would write. She was always in the middle of a story in her head. Sometimes, it was mundane and sometimes it was over the top. She was just always somewhere else. Sometimes she'd let me in by discussing her characters. 'Daniel cheated on Gabby, you know? I don't think she can take him back, even though she really wants to.' Then she would sigh. Her characters were always real to her, I could often not tell whether the person she was talking about was created or real. Sometimes, she'd only write for 20 minutes and then come and find me. She would curl herself s tightly as he could into me and take a nap. Or just start talking about something completely random. Or she would be quiet and let me speak about whatever I wanted. She was an amazing listener and she never got bored. Everyone's story was a story she could use. In the evening, we would go somewhere. The cinema or dinner. She would always hold my hand, but she hardly spoke. She wasn't really a talker, so whenever I was with her, I wasn't a talker either. I met someone that was a talker. It was different. We talked about everything. Sometimes I'd talk to her all through my lunch break and not even notice I hadn't eaten. We talked in the morning and in the middle of the night. She told me everything and I felt like a well had opened inside of me. I just had so much to say. In many ways, it was easy to spend all my time talking to someone else. The quiet weekends with my girlfriend became furious text-a-thons for me. I put a password on my phone, even though she never checked it and started waking up before her. I stopped taking naps with her and got irritated when she wandered from her writing to find me. If she noticed, she didn't say anything and that often irritated me. Everything irritated me during this time. I got deeper and I started to get careless, or maybe I just didn't care about my girlfriend finding out. A message popped up on my phone during dinner. Damn iphones. 'I wish I you were here with me'. Her lack of reaction made me fall over myself trying to explain. She looked really sad. 'If she's what makes you happy, I wish you'd have just told me and left me alone.' That broke my heart. Our relationship ended as silently as it had been. My new girlfriend was fun. We did things. Talked about things. I think I loved her. I loved our relationship, it was fun, until it wasn't. We started running out of things to say and I longed for the silence. In the gaps, there was no intimacy there. If she wasn't talking, I didn't really know her. More and more, i thought of my old girlfriend. I knew she hated when I left because she never looked back when she said bye. She didn't want me to see her crying. I knew she loved anything that tasted of honey and hated chocolate. I knew all the things that made her laugh and most of the things that made her cry. I knew she loved weddings, but hated the idea of marriage. I knew she found it hard to trust anyone and always felt like she never fit in with people. I know she hated literary fiction because it over stated simple things. I knew she loved unfinished endings, because it felt more like real life. I knew her. It wasn't because of all the things she said, it was all the things she forced me to see by not saying anything. I had a girlfriend once. I think she may have been my soulmate.

Every mistake you made can be made sooner. Everytime something bad happens, for the first few minutes/ hours afterwards, depending on how bad it is, I just break down and cry. I've had many of those this year already, but I realised something...it's a blessing that I get to make these mistakes now. It's best that all these things happen when really, I don't have that much to lose. I don't have that far to fall...so even if I did hit rock bottom, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Off course I've made some mistakes that people my age may have learned ages ago...but everyone has their own journey and this is my own. So I'm giving myself a damn break! Constantly dwelling in blame and self pity is really quite a useless place to be. And honestly, nothing good comes out of that place. So, right now today, I'm grateful for all the mistakes I'm able to make now.